The hectors, or, The false challenge a comedy written in the year MDCLV, the scene, London.

SCENE IV.

Enter Hadland and Pate, Iustice and Sue at the other door to over-hear them.

Had.

Sister, you see he is a proper Gentleman, and I can assure you he has almost seven thousand pounds per annum.

Pate.

Speak no more of him, brother, for I shall never think of him in that Nature.

Had.

Why? what is the reason, Sister?

Pat.

I desire that you would pardon me for that.

Had.

I hope you are engaged unto no body?

Pat.

No, not engaged.—But—

She weeps.

Had.

What is the matter, Sister? Come, let me be partaker of what ever troubles you. You do not use to be thus strange to me.

Pat.

I do not indeed, but now, me thinks, I have too much cause for me to appear strange unto my self.

Had.

Why? what is the matter?

Pat.

From you (dear brother) I cannot conceal any thing, yet I

could wish you could now guesse my thoughts, and look into my mind, and see what strange passions there have ruled of late, without forcing of me to straine my modesty.

Had.

What? are you in love with any body? Come, let me know the party, a brothers advice may do you no hurt.

Pat.

If I should tell, I know you would laugh at me; but truly I shal rather deserve your pity.—

Had.

Come, come, tell me; who is it?

Pat.

Did not you see an ancient Gentleman with me when you came in?

Had.

What, is it any son or kinsman of his?

Pat.

No, no.

She weeps.

Had.

Who then?

Pat.

I have told you.

Had.

Who, that feeble and decrepit piece of age?

Pat.

Nay, brother.—

Had.

That sad effect of some threescore years and ten, that antick relick of the last Century?

Pat.

Nay, brother, I told you, you would serve me so.—

Had.

But, sister, prethee be a little serious. Dost thou love him indeed?

Pat.

Alas, dear brother, it is but too true.

Had.

It is impossible.

Pat.

One would think so indeed.

Had.

I grant, you may bear a reverence and regard, as you would to your fathers ashes, or your Grandfires Tomb.

Pat.

Witness all that are good and just, never a youth of two and twenty stirred more amorous desires then he hath done in me.

Iust.

I see now Sue, thou saist true.

Had.

Certainly the Villain hath bewitched her, could ever woman be thus mad else, to be in love with age and rottenness, to be in love with a withered carcass, whom its own soul being weary of, is rea∣dy to forsake and leave?

Pat.

Alas, brother, you know I never did affect those vain, though pleasing braveries of youth, but still have let my mind on the more nobler part of man, which Age doth more refine and elevate; then it doth depresse and sink this same contemptible clod.

Had.

Well, Sister, to morrow you shall go down with me into the Country; I'll warrant we shall find them there shall make you forget this same reverend Sir.

Pat.

O never, never.

Had.

Do but try.—

I have a Coach here in the Town, come, come, you shall go, I will p••e••ently go and ••ake order about things.

Exount.

En••er Iustice and Sue.

Sue.

Now you will believe me another time.

Iust.

I can scarce believe my self; but is it possible that she should so love me, and I could never perceive it all this while?

Sue.

Alas, Sir, she is so modest, that I dare swear, except it had been to her brother, she would have concealed this same passion until it had broke her very heart.

Iust.

But what had I best to do?

Sue.

Nay, Sir, you see your danger, if her brother should carry her into the Country to morrow, how they may work upon her easie na∣ture, I cannot tell.

Iust.

You say true.

Sue.

E'en strike while the iron is hot; for ought I know, if you let this night pass, you are gone for ever.

Iust.

Dost think she would marry me this night then?

Sue.

That would be somewhat sudden, I must confesse, but I dare swear you might perswade her unto any thing, if you do but take your opportunity when her Brother is gone.

Iust.

Well, I will try what may be done.—

But, Sweet-heart, They were just now talking of Tenants that she had, has she any Land too in the Country?

Sue.

I, Sir, for my part, came to her since she came to London, and therefore cannot speak any thing of mine own knowledge, but some∣what I believe I can guesse.

Iust.

Why, I pray?

Sue.

Sir, every now and then here comes a company of fellowes in letherne breeches with money to my Mistris, and here they keep a talk∣ing of Leases, and renewing of Leases, and Fines; a deuce take them for me, I am sure I am fain to clean our Dining-Room some four or five times a week after them.

Iust.

Say you so? Say you so?

Sue.

Then (Sir) for a month together about last Lady-day, we lived upon nothing but Capons that these fellowes sent us.

Iust.

You were shrewdly hurt, were you not?

Sue.

'Twas but the last week that one, she calls him her—Baily, I think.

Iust.

I, I, right, right; what of him?

Sue.

Why he sent her a Gammon of Bacon seasoned with pepper∣cornes, that were due to her, one from each Farm.

Iust.

I?

Su.

And when that fellow comes up to the Town, there is such a talk∣ing of Rents, Quit-rents, Reversions, Harriots, and I know not what all —

There are some other things she has, they use to talk much of, that I have quite forgot; Stay, —Mannals I think they call them.

Iust.

Manors, you meane.

Sue.

I, Manors, Manors, what are they (Sir?) any sort of cattle?

Iust.

No, no, you Cockney.—

How shall I wallow in Wealth! I shall never be able to ••ame my luxu∣riant bags.— I may found Hospitals, Colledges, or build Chur∣ches.

Sue.

Sir, and have them turned to Stables.

Iust.

Mas, thou saist true, Wench. I may make Causeways or build Bridges.—

Sue.

Well (Sir) you had not best to lose all, while you are a thinking of it.

Iust.

'Tis well said, I will go to her presently.

Exeunt.